


You Could Do Better

by thefantasticphantomwriter



Category: Marvel
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friendship, I Don't Even Know, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefantasticphantomwriter/pseuds/thefantasticphantomwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade makes pancakes for Peter and he's basically the best person ever, in his own opinion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Could Do Better

Wade was a great person, holy shit. Even as he sat on the rooftop of an apartment building in Queens with a stack of pancakes balanced on his palm he couldn’t help but think about how generous and thoughtful and kind he was for what he was about to do. This was Avengers level shit right here.

  
“Bet I’m the first to do this, eh?” he said happily, carefully rearranging the precarious stack of fluffy goodness on his gloved hand and talking to nobody in particular. “No one else would think of creating such a culinary masterpiece just to give it away to someone else, no way! Fuck, I surprise myself sometimes.” He stared out over the glowing midnight cityscape and smiled to himself as he waited patiently (or as patiently as Deadpool ever could) for the person he hoped would show up. There were no guarantees, but usually when Wade made an appearance in the city his spandex-clad comrade-of-sorts would get wind of it and hunt him down. It wasn’t always a pleasant meeting, but Wade looked forwards to them regardless.

  
“Wade?” came a familiar voice from the opposite side of the roof just as Wade began wondering whether he should sneak a pancake before he was forced to share them. Footsteps slowly got closer to where he was perched. The voice was soon revealed to be Spider-Man himself, the hero who had a habit of throwing Deadpool out of the city. “Is that you having a conversation with yourself?”

  
“Spidey!” Wade exclaimed, jumping up and throwing his arms in the air, nearly losing the pancakes over the side of the building. “I knew you’d show up sooner or later! You never could resist a date with good ol’ Deadpool, and who could blame you.”

  
“Usually I show up because I’m concerned that you’re beheading someone or blowing up a sizeable chunk of New York,” he replied, approaching Wade cautiously. “If I had any choice I’d be on the other side of the city right now, trust me.”

  
“Aww, don’t be mean, Pete,” Wade whined. “I know you don’t mean that. Besides, look what I did for you! No need to say thank you. Well, actually, that’d be great. Feel free to get down on your knees and grovel. They took ages to perfect.” He held up the pancakes in a flamboyant manner and smiled widely beneath his mask. There was a brief silence in which Peter stared at the pancakes suspiciously.

  
"Right. So what's the catch?"

  
"Catch? No catch at all, Petey!" Deadpool made an attempt at an offended expression. "I just want to share some of my cooking talent with my closest buddy in the whole entire world, that's all. I even brought syrup." From seemingly nowhere, Deadpool produced a bottle of maple syrup. "It's 100% Canadian, just like yours truly." 

"Oh, well, that changes everything," said Peter with a sigh. "Seriously, Wade, what are you up to? You don't exactly seem like the cooking type. I doubt you could see a knife without using it to stab someone."

  
"Excuuuuuse me! I never thought Spider-Man would be the judgmental type, but I guess I was wrong! Just because I'm a mercenary doesn't mean I can't have a soft feminine side, Petey. I happen to love flowers and also puppies and frills. You should see my closet, the amount of pink-"

  
"Okay, okay," Peter interrupted, "I'll eat your pancakes, alright? Just please don't tell me about the contents of your closet. I can't bear it."

  
“Oh, goodie!” Wade wiggled excitedly. “We’ll have them up here, the view is nice, right? I’m not very good with date locations, sorry ‘bout that. People don’t react too well when I walk into restaurants.”

  
“This isn’t a date,” Peter lifted the bottom half of his mask to reveal a pair of pretty lips turned down in a scowl. “I’m just accepting your pancakes as a mark of good will.”

  
“Same thing,” replied Wade with a shrug, sitting down on the edge of the roof so his legs dangled over the side. He kicked them back and forth like a little kid. Peter hesitated for a moment, then copied his movement, settling down on the edge. The height didn’t bother him at all, it wasn’t like he couldn’t catch himself if he fell, but the close proximity to a slightly more than insane mercenary that didn’t know how to shut up and had a bad habit of causing destruction wherever he went was a bit daunting.

  
“Whoopsies, looks like I forgot to bring two plates,” Wade announced suddenly, peering at the tower of pancakes like there might be one hiding between them somewhere. “I suppose I’ll be the gentleman and let you use the one we have.”

“Thanks,” said Peter dryly, accepting the plate topped with no less than six pancakes. He was about to take a bite out of one when Wade made an obnoxious squealing noise and he stopped with his mouth about to close over it. He turned his gaze to his companion.

  
“No syrup?” Wade asked as though it were a question of life or death. “How are you even real, Spidey?”

  
“I don’t really like syrup,” Peter replied with a frown. “It’s too sweet.”

  
“Ohhh, I get it,” said Wade, nodding as though he had reached a great conclusion. “You’re so sweet that you can’t hold any extra sweetness inside your cute little body! That makes sense.”

  
“No, it doesn’t.” Peter didn’t elaborate and opted instead to take a large bite of the pancake in his hand, praying silently that he wouldn‘t have to be hospitalized afterwards. “Hey, this isn’t bad.”

  
“What did I tell you?” Wade said as he poured the entire bottle of maple syrup on his slightly smaller stack of pancakes, effectively rendering them a pulpy, sticky mess. “I’m a masterful chef. You should try my spaghetti, holy shit. Really takes you to another plane of existence.”

  
“Mm, I bet,” Peter replied in an offhand way, not really paying attention to him anymore, focusing instead on his food. He tried not to let his eyes wander to where Wade was shoving handfuls of sticky pancakes into his face and smearing syrup all over the exposed half of his face lest he lose his appetite. That Wade was showing his face at all was a bit of a surprise to Peter; it wasn’t often that Wade exposed his skin for any reason other than his mask being destroyed during a fight. His scars were as horrific as ever, but Peter didn’t feel any particular aversion to them anymore; they were merely a part of Wade. The “insane mercenary” thing bothered him a hell of a lot more than his disfigured skin ever would.

  
“-And then, oh man Spidey you would loved to have been there, his head just _popped off_! Popped clean off like the top of a daisy! Or are those dandelions? What do you pop the heads off of, Spidey?” Peter hadn’t realized that Wade had been speaking the entire time that he’d been lost in thought, and he seemed to have tuned back in at an unfortunate time indeed.

  
“Any kind of flower, I guess,” he answered hesitantly. “Can we not discuss the brutal deaths you’ve witnessed? Or caused? I’m sure you’ve got a good long list to go through but I’m not feeling quite up to that at the moment. Or ever.”

  
“Well, what do you normal people talk about, then?” Wade demanded. “Saving the world or whatever? Unfortunately I haven’t added that to my resume yet, but I’ll let you know when I do. Maybe I can apply for a full-time position with the Avengers if I do that, although they‘ve been a bit stingy with me in the past-”

  
“Deadpool.” Peter said seriously, turning to him. “Wade. I’ve told you before, you could be good. Like, really good. Without killing and maiming and destruction.”

  
“Yeah right,” Wade mumbled. His mood switched from cheery to depressed in an instant and he threw the remains of his soupy pancakes off the edge of the roof. “Everyone thinks I’m a monster, and that’s before the mask even goes on. Nobody is interested in giving me a chance and even if they did, I ain’t cut out for the saving people thing, Spidey. I never have been. Nobody wants a deranged guy like me on their team. You know as well as anybody else, maybe better than anyone else, that I’m off my rocker. Hell, I’ve even got voices constantly going off in my head. I ain’t exactly the recipe for _hero_.”

  
Peter laid the remains of his pancakes on the rough surface of the roof and frowned across the gap between the buildings. Of course Wade was right. Nobody trusted Deadpool, and when anyone saw Wade for who he really was, they feared his appearance as much as they feared the mask that covered it. It must be infinitely difficult to imagine helping people who you resent, and Wade certainly had every reason for resentment. Peter kind of understood how that felt.

  
“Maybe I can help,” he said slowly, thinking it through as he said the words. “I mean, I could show you the ropes of being a hero, of really helping people. I’m not the most qualified to teach you but I think you’re a little low on options at the moment.”

  
“You’re not serious,” Wade insisted, mouth hanging wide open now. “No way the awesome and handsome Spider-Man wants to team up with me, I must be dreaming. Wouldn’t be the first time, although normally you’d be getting naked and confessing your undying love for me about now.” Wade eyed him as though to make sure he wasn’t about to do so. “Are you serious? Like, actually completely totally serious? If you’re not I’m gonna have to revoke pancake privileges because that’s just _cold_.”

  
“I’m serious,” Peter said with a small smile. Wade looked so excited that he could hardly contain it. “We could start with patrols, maybe eventually even move up to doing some missions. It’s going to take time to convince anyone that you’re not a destructive menace though, so be prepared for that.”

  
“Spidey, I am so prepared! Oh man, oh man, my boxes are freaking out right now. We’ve wanted to do something like this for ages! You’re like my favourite hero out there, I’ve always kind of worshipped you, dunno if you could tell. Ain’t nobody else has an ass that looks that good in tights, perhaps with the exception of myself, but even that’s a stretch-”

  
“First rule, no butt comments,” Peter said sternly.

  
“I dunno if I can adhere to that particular rule, Spidey,” Wade said seriously. “Honestly, have you seen yourself? God, can I squeeze-?”

  
“Wade, no!” Peter cut him off in a horrified way. “Absolutely no groping me at any time. That’s rule number two. Rule number three is that you need to listen to everything I say and follow all my orders.”

  
“Oooh, Spidey likes to be in control.” A lecherous grin spread across Wade’s exposed mouth. “I’ll do whatever you say, baby boy. Don’t take advantage of me though, I’m just a little Deadpool!”

  
Peter sighed and set his plate gently on the edge of the roof, brushing crumbs off his face with a gloved hand. Wade was going to be near impossible to deal with, but he’d suggested the partnership and he’d follow it through to the bitter end. He was fully convinced that all Wade needed to be a hero was a guiding hand, a little bit of help, and if he had to play that role himself, so be it.

  
“Hey, Spidey?” said Wade suddenly, turning to stare at him intently.

  
“Yes?” Peter replied apprehensively, nervous about what could potentially spill out of Wade’s unfiltered mouth.

  
“Are we friends? Like, I mean, I’ve always considered you a friend and a damn fine piece of ass, but what about you? If we’re gonna be patrolling together n’ stuff, I’d rather be friends. Or boyfriends. I’ll take either.”

  
Peter stared up at the sky and smiled despite himself. “Yeah, Wade. We’re friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> so.... i got bored. and this happened. CYA SUCKERS.


End file.
